Yuzuru Suoh
by TomParisLvr
Summary: Tamaki's father has a thing for Haruhi. Takes place after the end of the manga. Note: I changed the name of this story since I was originally going to have it be part of a series featuring all the host club parents, but my muse isn't with me on the other stories.
1. Thoughts of a Scholarship Student

**Author's note: this is a tamer version of the same story I posted on AFF.**

 **I took Yuzuru Suoh's character from the manga (specifically chapter 25 in volume 6) where he's a LOT nicer guy than in the anime.**

* * *

Yuzuru Suoh laid on the mattress of the sleeper sofa in his son Tamaki's apartment in Boston, Massachusetts. He turned over, trying to get comfortable under the blankets. _'I should have stayed at a hotel,'_ he thought. His son was supposed to be there. Tamaki was visiting his maternal grandparents in France and had planned to return home yesterday. However, a major snowstorm had closed the airports where Tamaki was, and he was stuck there for who knew how long. When Yuzuru Suoh had arrived at the airport in Boston late that evening, it had been Tamaki's girlfriend Haruhi Fujioka who had accompanied the driver to pick him up.

Haruhi was special, and not just because she was his son's girlfriend. In fact, it might be fair to say that she was special *despite* being his son's girlfriend.

Yuzuru smiled to himself. He loved to tease his son, even in his own mind. Tamaki was a silly young man who was incompetent in many ways, yet he was incredible in many others. He had one particular quality above all else that made Yuzuru proud: he had a way of drawing the best people to him. Tamaki had certainly done that when he pulled Haruhi into his life. Haruhi was one of the most unique and incredible young women that Yuzuru had ever met.

As chairman of Ouran Academy, Yuzuru created an academic scholarship, and had the honor of choosing the recipient each year. Out of all the applicants, Haruhi Fujioka stood out. She passed the qualification exam with flying colors, and her essay on wanting to become a lawyer to follow in her late mother's footsteps was inspiring. He had taken a liking to her immediately, long before he ever met her.

Then he heard that Tamaki had pretty much coerced the young academic into joining his little band and made her dress like a boy to entertain the girls. Other school faculty members were a little concerned over this, but not Yuzuru. He knew his son and his crazy schemes. Whatever he was doing to the poor girl, it would definitely benefit her in the end. It would force her to stretch herself, to broaden her horizons, to blossom, as it were. It would definitely bring out the best in her, as Tamaki's schemes always did.

Yuzuru had been impressed with Miss Fujioka's academics, but became more intrigued as he heard about her exploits in the host club. Since Tamaki had a way of drawing the best people to him, and drawing the best out of them, Miss Fujioka had to be one of the best.

Like his son, Yuzuru was a silly romantic and a drama king, though not to the same extent. He had created the scholarship not just for humanitarian reasons, but because he loved the book _Daddy Long Legs_ by Jean Webster. _Daddy Long Legs_ was a story about an orphan girl at school who wrote letters to her benefactor. Yuzuru, romantic idealist that he was, wanted to be a Daddy Long Legs. When he finally met the fascinating Miss Fujioka at the school fair, he had given Miss Fujioka stationary so that she could write to him. The young lady seemed unamused at first, but eventually acquiesced and had written him weekly. She had refused to call him Daddy Long Legs or simply Daddy (when he suggested it, she told him she got more than enough of the fake daddy delusion from Tamaki, thank you very much), and had originally called him Chairman. Yet, she eventually relented and gave him the moniker of Uncle Yuzuru.

Like her scholarship application essay, Miss Fujioka's letters were eloquent, well-written, and revealed her true intelligence. She didn't like to talk about herself or her classmates much (which disappointed Yuzuru a little, since he would love to hear about his lunatic son and his host club from her perspective). She mostly wrote about her studies. She shared her thoughts with him about poetry, literature, history, philosophy, Shakespeare and other playwrights. She discussed biology, chemistry, and how the mathematics she learned could or could not be applied to the real world. Reading her letters, he began to see certain things in different ways. She was young and inexperienced, of course, and some of that showed in her view of the world, but even so, she made him think. She was just like Tamaki's mother Anne-Sophie in that way.

Yuzuru enjoyed Miss Fujioka's letters so much that he decided to take time out of his busy schedule to invite her tea on occasion. Neither of them had much time to spare, so their visits were all too short and infrequent, but they were a treasure. Miss Fujioka's intelligence and fascinating way of thinking that had been hinted at in her letters really showed through in her visits. She had a natural charm about her that warmed his heart every time she was near. He could easily tell why she was so popular among the female (and sometimes male, he heard) patrons of the host club. With the combined stresses of his mother, the Suoh business empire, and his other schemes and responsibilities, he was grateful to have opportunities to relax in the company of such a refreshing young woman.

Time with his son was something Yuzuru also didn't get nearly enough of, and he cherished every moment. Tamaki's conversations often centered on his host club and it's members. More and more, he talked about the only young lady in the group. Tamaki's respect and admiration of Miss Fujioka only served to increase Yuzuru's own high opinion of her. As time went on, Yuzuru could tell that Tamaki had fallen in love with the girl, and that the young man was completely oblivious of that fact.

Yuzuru had been preoccupied with other matters at the time, but looking back he could see that the feelings Tamaki had for Miss Fujioka were mutual, as was the obliviousness. When Tamaki was pretty much being held captive by his grandmother Shizue, Miss Fujioka had intervened. She had led the other members of the host club to the Suoh business headquarters and demanded to see Shizue Suoh, the Director of the Suoh business empire herself. Political and business leaders from Japan and around the world had to wait months for an appointment with the Director, yet these young people tried to push themselves into her place of business and demand her attention. At the time, Yuzuru had been irritated at the potential interference with his own plans, yet a part of him couldn't help but be impressed by their audacity and loyalty to his son. Then later when he heard that Miss Fujioka had, with the help of her friends, jumped through a plate glass window, furiously called Shizue, Yuzuru, and Tamaki all idiots, and thus convinced Shizue to let Tamaki see his mother, Yuzuru had been astounded. He thought he had the measure of this young woman, yet he found that even his high opinion of her was not nearly high enough. In short, Miss Haruhi Fujioka amazed him!

When tragedy struck eight months ago, a few weeks before Miss Fujioka and Tamaki were set to travel to the United States to study abroad for a year, she had shown an even deeper side to herself. Yuzuru had worked for decades to get his mother to accept Anne-Sophie, the woman he loved. He had spent years secretly funding pharmaceutical research to find a cure for the disease that was going to cost Anne-Sophie her life. Tamaki had spent his entire life dreaming and working to have a family that was united and loving, and to see his father, mother, paternal grandmother, and himself all sit together at a kotasu enjoying meals together. Finally those dreams had been realized. Finally Yuzuru's mother had welcomed Anne-Sophie into the family, Anne-Sophie had been cured, and the four members of the family enjoyed meals together (at a table, not a kotasu, to Tamaki's disappointment). Then a few months later, all that was taken away from them by a car crash. Anne-Sophie, his dear, beloved Anne-Sophie, had been killed.

Somehow, among all the family and friends who expressed condolences and did what they could for Yuzuru, Miss Fujioka had stood out. Her love and attention had been focused mostly on the grieving Tamaki, of course, yet she spared more than a little for her Uncle Yuzuru. She had a way of perceiving his thoughts and feelings, and said exactly the right things to help him get through the bad times. She had suffered the loss of her own mother at a young age and had grown up watching her father grieve for his wife and learn to live without her. Those experiences had given her wisdom beyond her years and shaped her into the person who could best help Yuzuru in this trying time. After Anne-Sophie's funeral, when all the other guests had gone and Tamaki had fallen exhausted into sleep, Yuzuru had let his guard down and cried into the young woman's arms. He had never thought in a million years that it would be one of his students he would let see him at his weakest, and who would care for him and dry his tears. Since that day, he had cried on her shoulder many times, and leaned on her strength when he needed it. Since that day, he had stopped referring to her as Miss Fujioka and had simply called her Haruhi.

Now Yuzuru lay on his son's (quite uncomfortable) sleeper sofa, thinking of the young woman who captivated him so. He tried not to think of it, but more and more he realized that not only was Haruhi beautiful on the inside, she was beautiful on the outside as well. This was especially apparent now that she had stopped trying to look like a boy. She had let her hair grow, and it now fell to just below her chin most attractively. She styled it with cute clips that matched her clothes, which were no longer boyish but soft and feminine. She wore little to no makeup, but her smooth complexion, large, chocolate eyes, and inviting mouth needed none. Falling in love with Tamaki had made her blossom, and the whole effect was of a perfect spring flower. Yuzuru smiled to himself. Well, not a _perfect_ spring flower. She still held a deadpan expression when she was unamused by Tamaki's - or Yuzuru's - antics, and the fire she showed when she had called the Suohs idiots sometimes flared up when she was especially annoyed or angry. She wasn't flirty or flighty or given to fits of silliness and giggles like most girls her age, and the etiquette of the ladies in Yuzuru's high social circles was all but lost on her. Yet the expressions that crossed that lovely face when she was thoughtful, or determined, or worried, or happy, or bashful, or smitten or. . . well, Yuzuru realized, almost all the expressions that crossed that lovely face, made Haruhi absolutely adorable and mesmerizing. The more Yuzuru thought of her, the more he determined that his son was the luckiest man in the world.

He turned on his side and stared at the door that joined his son's apartment with hers. Yuzuru had worried when he discovered their apartments were so intimately connected, yet Haruhi assured him that she had put furniture in front of the door and insisted the two only enter each other's apartments through their front doors. Yuzuru smiled, imagining what Tamaki's reaction to that must have been like. He had probably waxed poetic about the special doorway connecting two young people in love, then sulked in a corner when that doorway was firmly and permanently shut.

Yuzuru thought of how Haruhi had insisted that she had come to the United States to study, and that a physical relationship would only distract her. So far, both she and Tamaki asserted that their relationship had not crossed any lines, and they had not and would not do anything their parents would deem inappropriate. Yuzuru focused on the doorway, imagining the lovely young woman on the other side. She was by herself in her own apartment. The residence was quiet, comfortable, and most definitely private. There were no classmates, no school staff, no servants, and most importantly of all, no Ranka Fujioka (Haruhi's father). No one to disturb her and any male companion with her. Yuzuru sighed at the rise in his body temperature just thinking about it, and thought his son must have the self-control of a saint.

He rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling. The desire he felt for the young scholarship student had been increasing day by day, and right now it consumed his thoughts. He wanted so badly to wrap his arms around her and kiss her more thoroughly than she had ever been kissed in her life. He wanted to run his hand through her soft hair, cup her sweet face, and whisper sweet nothings in her ear. He wanted to feel her reaction as he nibbled on her ear, and taste her skin as he trailed his lips down her lovely neck. He wanted to feel electricity course through her body when he trailed his fingertips down her spine, and he wanted to caress the soft curves at her waist. He wanted to-

He cut off his line of thinking before it went any further. _'Dammit Suoh!'_ he chastised himself. _'What kind of pervert are you? How can you be thinking about sex right now? You don't have the excuse of a young man, with raging hormones and a not-fully-developed brain. You're a grown man with an almost grown son, a business empire, and a school to run! Hell, even your son, who *is* a young man with hormones and a not-fully-developed brain, has more restraint than you! Sure, Haruhi just turned seventeen, which makes her over the age of consent in both Boston and Japan (and why the hell had I looked that up?), but it's still wrong!'_

He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, trying to clear his mind. He needed sleep. That was it. He was tired, which lowered his reason and his willpower considerably. Once he had recharged, he could regain his full intelligence and once again see his son's girlfriend the scholarship student as *only* his son's girlfriend and scholarship student, and not a potential partner in a May-December romance.

He dozed off as it began to rain.


	2. An Angel in His Arms

Yuzuru didn't know how long he slept when he was awoken by a knock at the door. There was no clock around, and a look at the window showed rainclouds obscuring any sign of sun or moon. The soft rain that he'd heard earlier had developed into a full deluge, and as he watched, the sky lit up with a lightning strike, followed closely by a huge crack of thunder. He heard a short shriek from the other side of the door, and the knocking became more insistent.

"Just a minute," he called as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was still groggy from sleep, and thought the knocking was coming from the front door. Before he could move any further, however, the connecting door to the other apartment opened, and a frightened-looking Haruhi timidly stepped into the room.

The sound of thunder, much softer than the earlier crack, permeated the apartment, and Haruhi flinched, hugging herself, and letting out a soft, "Eep!"

Yuzuru kicked himself. How could he forget that Haruhi was afraid of thunderstorms? It was he who had gotten her excused from classes and provided her with an unused, windowless, and nearly soundproof office for her to take refuge in when thunderstorms hit the school. He didn't know what caused her phobia - he suspected she didn't know herself - but he had read somewhere that trauma sometimes caused bizarre phobias that had nothing to do with the trauma itself. Perhaps losing a mother at such a young age had caused such an inexplicable psychological phenomenon in Haruhi.

Regardless, Yuzuru needed to dispel the grogginess in his mind and focus on the frightened young woman in front of him. Despite the fact that he knew he should be helping her, the first thing he thought when his mind was fully awake was how. . . sexy Haruhi looked. She was wearing a sheer white robe trimmed with white ruffles. It had long sleeves and was so short it barely reached the top of her thighs. Under it she had a white bandeau-style bra covered in layers of white ruffles and thin, white spaghetti straps. Her matching panties were white and boy cut, and also covered in layers of ruffles. Yuzuru recognized it as one of Yuzuha Hitachiin's designs. He had seen it once when he had gone over to the Hitachiin mansion on school business. In their large drawing room had been dozens of mannequins dressed in her designs, and this outfit had been on one of them. Haruhi had been there, trying to fend off Yuzuha's twin sons who were trying to get her to model it. Yuzuru hoped they would convince her. He wanted to see her in that outfit, too, though of course he couldn't say it out loud. Some of what he was thinking must have shown on his face, however, since when Haruhi took one look at him, she turned bright red and practically ran from the room.

Now, here she was, wearing it in front of him.

For a minute Yuzuru's breath stopped. He had to admit that the Hitachiin boys had a good eye. That ensemble flattered her figure quite nicely.

His eyes took in the sight of her lovely arms and torso adorned with white lingerie, then traveled down to her bare, beautifully sculpted legs and painted toenails.

She didn't pose like a lingerie model, showing off her physique and giving him a come-hither stare. Instead, she stood there, with her shoulders hunched and her arms crossed, trembling slightly, looking at him with eyes filled with fear and pleading. She said something, and it took him a moment to register what it was. He forced himself to breathe again and his mind to produce coherent thoughts.

"Y-yes, of course, you can stay with me," he said in answer to her question. He gestured her to sit next to him, and she sat on the bed with her feet tucked under her and her body leaning against him. He grabbed the blanket and threw it over their shoulders, then wrapped his arms around her protectively. Every rumble and crack of thunder, including those so soft he could barely hear them, caused her to shake and tremble. The louder ones caused her to yelp or cry out. She buried her head in his chest with one ear pressed against his nightshirt, and he put his hand over her other ear to block out the noise. He laid his cheek on top of her head, and every once in a while he kissed it. Whenever a particularly loud thundercrack made it through to her ears and she jumped, he would cling to her tighter. He kept up a flow of comforting words, and did his best with his every action to let her know that he was there for her and she was safe.

Fortunately, the thunder part of the thunderstorm didn't last very long. Only about half an hour by Yuzuru's guess. It took several minutes after the last rumble of thunder before Haruhi lifted her head and stopped trembling. She pulled away from his arms, a blush spreading adorably across her face.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Yuzuru. I didn't mean to. . ." she looked down and away. "I'm so embarrassed."

"You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Haruhi. You've seen me at my weakest. You've held me when I needed your strength. I'm glad I got to return the favor," he said, smiling.

She looked up at him thoughtfully, though she was still blushing. "I guess that's true," she said, and gave a brief smile.

Yuzuru expected her to get up and return to her apartment, but she didn't. Instead she sat there for a minute, looking as if she wanted to say something but didn't know how. Finally, she spoke.

"Uncle Yuzuru, I don't think I've ever told you how much you mean to me. I mean, your scholarship gave me the opportunity to study at Ouran. Your study abroad scholarship gave me the opportunity to study here in the United States. The United States! I never would have dreamed I'd end up in a foreign country with all expenses paid!" she said. She smiled at him in quiet joy and gratitude, and he felt a surge of affection for her.

"I'm glad I could help," he smiled and hugged her.

When she pulled away, her voice became more serious. "But it's much more than that, Uncle Yuzuru. I loved writing letters to you and receiving your letters back. I have lots of friends, but I couldn't really have a highly intellectual conversation with any of them. You let me discuss philosophy and law and history. My dad never was into books, and Tamaki and the others at the host club were always focused on fun or on their family or businesses. With you, I got to indulge in one of my secret passions."

Yuzuru had to clear his throat when he heard her say _'passions,'_ but he forced himself to focus on what she was saying.

"And our visits over tea," she continued. "It was so different from anytime I've had with anyone else. My brain always felt like it was hit with an electric charge, our conversations were that stimulating!"

 _'Stimulating.'_ Yuzuru had to clear his throat again.

"Uncle Yuzuru, you're so smart, and kind, and generous, and capable. And you've got a silly, boyish side to you that I now know where Tamaki gets it from!" she smiled. Then, surprisingly, she took his hand. "You've got everything in you that I love about him, but you're more mature, more distinguished, more worldly," she looked down, then peered up at him through her lashes in a suggestive look. "More experienced," she finished in a sultry voice.

He looked down at her, the heat rising in his body as she moved his hand and placed it on her bare thigh. Her hand stayed resting on top of his. "Haruhi-" he began, and stopped to swallow. He didn't know what to say.

"I know you wanted to see how I looked in this," she said, plucking at her sheer robe and blushing. She looked down at his hand on her thigh. He realized he hadn't tried to move it. Her skin just felt too nice. She looked into his eyes. "I saw you, when we were at Hikaru and Kaoru's house. I saw how you looked at me when they tried to get me to wear this. To be honest, Uncle Yuzuru, when they gave me this, I thought of you. I told them I'd never wear it, but every time you visited, I did. I knew it was unlikely, but I'd hoped. . . fantasized," she looked down, embarrassed, "that you'd walk in and accidentally see me in this and you'd. . ." she trailed off, evidently losing her nerve to say what she was about to. She looked up at him and continued in a rush, "Honestly, Uncle Yuzuru, I thought it was just harmless fantasy! I didn't actually plan to go through with it, to have you see me like this! But then it started thundering and lightning, and Tamaki wasn't here to help me through it, and I had just moved the dresser out from in front of the connecting doorway to find something that fell behind it, and I thought. . . I mean. . . the temptation. . ." she floundered, afraid to explain further. "It was a mistake," she said. "I'm sorry, I should go." She let go of his hand and made to get up.

Without thinking, he held her in place and cupped her face in his now-free hand. "I know about temptation," he said in a low voice, then kissed her.

Honestly, he hadn't planned on doing it. But she was there, and she was beautiful, and warm, and sweet, and - God help him! - she felt the same about him as he did her! There was no turning away from that, no letting her slip from his grasp. She wanted what he wanted. He knew if he denied them both now, he'd regret it for the rest of his life.

Haruhi stiffened in surprise for a second, then seemed to melt in his arms. She let out a moan and grabbed his shirt in her hands. He wrapped his arms around her tighter, crushing her to his chest. The feel of her in his arms was better than he had ever imagined. He opened his mouth and she followed suit, and the sensation of their breaths and tongues mingling was absolutely intoxicating. If he hadn't known it before, he definitely knew it now. He was in love with Haruhi Fujioka.

The kiss went on for a long time. Finally, they pulled apart, trying to catch their breaths. He laid his forehead against hers.

"I can't believe how lucky I am," he said.

She let out a relieved laugh. "I'm so glad you feel that way, Uncle Yuzuru! I feel the same way," she replied.

He lifted her chin with his hand and gazed into her eyes. "Just Yuzuru, Haruhi," he said.

"Yuzuru," she said.

The sound of his name on her lips without any titles sent a jolt of electricity through him. He crushed her to him again, his mouth meeting hers. After a minute, he let his embrace relax, but didn't let her go. She wrapped her arms around his neck and this time it was she who pressed their bodies and mouths closer together. She didn't do it very long, however. She pulled back from him, breaking the kiss and lowering her hands to rest on his chest.

"Yuzuru," she said in a low voice, which sent another jolt through him. "I want more."

He looked at her quizzically for a moment as she moved his arms away from her. Then his eyes widened in realization as she slipped the robe off her shoulders, letting it fall in a puddle behind her. She reached up hesitantly and started undoing the buttons of his night shirt.

His heart was already pounding from the kiss, but now it sped up even more. Kissing her was one thing, but going even further was something else entirely. He was almost certain she was a virgin. Did she really want this to be her first time?

"Haruhi," he said gently, holding her hands in his to stop her. "Are you sure about this? How far do you really want to go tonight?"

"I want to go all the way, Yuzuru. I want you to be my first. I've thought about this, dreamed about this, for I don't know how long. As I said, you're mature, and solid, and experienced. I know you'll be gentle," she said. She stared intently into his eyes. "And I know you want this, too, Yuzuru. I've seen the way you look at me, though you've tried to hide it. I've felt your touch linger just a second too long when you hug me or accidentally brush against me. And your kiss just now, and what you said about being lucky. . ." She pulled one hand from his grip and placed it on his cheek. "Please, Yuzuru, take me."

Yuzuru nodded. He took both of her hands in his and guided her to the middle of the bed, then began fulfilling her request. It had been a long time since he touched a woman like this. There was no sense of urgency or animal lust. It was all light caresses, tender kisses, and soft sighs. He was aware of the trust shown him by this gentle creature, and didn't want to spoil it by being crude or rough. He luxuriated in the new sensations, and could tell she was doing the same.

They spent hours in each others' arms, and it was heaven to Yuzuru. He wanted to draw this out as long as possible so he could enjoy it to the fullest. More importantly, he wanted to make sure that the lovely young woman he touched had the most sensual, pleasurable, and exhilarating experience possible. This was not only for her sake, but for his as well. He wanted her to look back on this night for the rest of her life and know that no other lover could ever measure up to him.

When they were finished, they lay next to each other with his arms around her. He couldn't stop gazing at her. She was so lovely. More than lovely. She was like an angel, and he was blessed by the gods to be the one holding her.

He placed his hand on her cheek, looked deeply into her eyes, and said, "I love you, Haruhi."

She smiled and said, "I love you, too, Yuzuru."

He thought what happened earlier was heaven, but now, hearing those words from her, he really, truly knew what heaven was like. He closed his eyes. His whole body and soul was at peace.

Before two seconds had gone by, the front door opened and Yuzuru sat bolt upright, blinking. When had it become daylight? Before he could say or do anything, Tamaki walked in, pulling a suitcase.

"Dad!" He exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air, a huge smile on his face! "I'm glad you're here! I thought you would have stayed at a hotel!"

Yuzuru blinked again, shocked. Tamaki wasn't angry to see his girlfriend in bed with him? Then he looked around, and saw that he was, in fact, alone. There was no sign of Haruhi. Yuzuru was fully dressed in his pajamas, not at all sweaty or breathless, and the blankets were covering him, not cast aside on the floor. In a flash it all came back to him. A dream. It was all a dream! He had fallen asleep listening to the sound of rain, and woken up with a wet spot on his pajama pants.

 _'Dammit, dammit, dammit!'_ he screamed inside his head, not knowing whether it was in disappointment that he hadn't actually made love to Haruhi, or shame that he had wanted to so badly he dreamed about it. What he did know, was that he was certainly glad his son could not read his mind.


End file.
